Chapter 10 - Reprimands and Mending

Snape didn't allow his gaze to rest on Rankin longer than any other spot in the room as he took the closest chair to the door. He did let his hard and vaguely disinterested gaze dwell on Percy, however. The most annoying of the Weasley children had tiny droplets of sweat on his upper lip.

Mr. Potter has given us his, uh, side of the story, Percy said, glancing at the parchments in front of his assistant on the left.

Shall we review it? Snape asked in a borderline helpful tone.

I, uh, don't think that is necessary, Percy stated quickly, garnering a furrowed brow from Jeeves. What do you . . . have to say for yourself?

Snape crossed his arms. With regard to?

Percy blanched and his face fell into dismay. Finally showing some anger, he said, With regard to Mr. Potter's allegations. Are they true?

Undoubtedly in his own mind, Snape stated dryly, dismissively.

So you are denying --

Snape cut him off. I am simply pointing that Potter is the headmaster's most favorite student. WHY, I have no idea. Nothing but a troublemaker who enjoys being at odds with as many teachers as possible. He gestured at the file sitting in the center of the table. You have his records there, have you not?

Jeeves took notes through this diatribe. Percy picked up the file and leafed through it. I do recall that in my days as Head Boy. He appeared to strain for the next question.

Snape bailed him out by saying with a sigh. I admit I may have tormented Mr. Potter, our resident hero, a bit too far this time. But his arrogance tends to push me just a bit beyond the edge. He said the last slowly and a little malevolently, making Percy fumble with the file, nearly dropping it. More dismissively, Snape said, I intended no permanent harm and none has befallen him, even the headmaster agrees on that point.

So you are saying . . . Percy began.

I am saying that will not bother him again, he finished in a bored voice.

Uh . .

Glancing now at Rankin just a little longer than Jeeves, Snape said, I expect you understand the position the school is in at this time. And that removing me is hardly in anyone's best interest? He managed to raise a non-glaring eyebrow at his former student and wait patiently.

Rankin nodded obediently. Percy shuffled his papers. You swear to leave him, uh, alone in the future?

With another bored sigh and frown, Snape replied as though the alternative were distasteful, Most certainly.

Does simplify the paperwork, Rankin put in chummily.

Percy nodded distractedly at that as he resettled the parchment folder and laid it out on the table. The top sheet in Potter's file was a list of every last detention he'd served and for what reason. The infractions were true, if not dolled up slightly, making for a daunting list. Out of context it would imply the boy was nearly self-destructive. Snape felt an odd sort of revenge at having the three of them look it over.

Finally Percy stashed it away. I think we can trust Headmaster Dumbledore to handle your censure in this case. We'll just file our recommendations with him.

Snape shrugged as though it were all in the course of the day and stood up with them to depart.

#########

The fallout wasn't as bad as Harry had been fearing; the whispering in the halls not as prevalent; the other teachers retained or returned to their normal behavior. Harry wasn't allowed to be alone with Professor Snape anymore and the teachers and staff were well aware of it.

Ron and Hermione kept insisting he tell them what happened; he kept insisting he didn't feel like recounting it again. Hermione also tried to give him trouble for not telling anyone about whatever it was, but Harry's very angry response put an immediate stop to her chiding.

Harry was determined to put a lot of suspicious minds to rest during his next Potions class. Malfoy's utter glee as they filed into the room didn't help much.

"Mr. Potter, what would adding tar black do to this potion?" Snape asked, finally getting around to aiming a question at him.

Get you one step into Dryiun Serum, Harry projected at him as he answered aloud, "I don't know, sir." He didn't think this was the best time to suddenly know the answer.

Snape crossed his arms and said. "Potter, do you ever study for this class?"

"I try to, sir," Harry said with a frown and dropped his gaze.

"Try harder."

###########

Harry woke up in the middle of the next night with a start. His own breathing was the only sound he could hear. Cold fear pumped through him as the vision that had invaded his sleep flashed into his mind again. Harry immediately cleared his mind and lay still and tried to calm down. The flash of imagery included Belletrix with a whip and Snape naked down to the remains of his torn robe, bent over his bound hands. Harry's view and emotions had clearly been Voldemort's.

Harry rolled onto his back and cleared and partitioned his mind. His heart started racing each time he prepared to open a pathway to Voldemort. Each time he aborted the Legilimency until he could approach it with a regular heart rate and relaxed body.

Finally he managed, and the vision returned. Snape gasped as the whip cracked over him. Lestrange was wearing a cloak with a shiny leather laced bodice underneath. The ties were undone at the top, leaving her rather revealed. She was enjoying herself way too much. As the punishment continued, Harry held himself completely calm despite the horror of the scene. At one point he felt Voldemort seeking him briefly but the Dark Lord actually gave up. Harry could feel his disappointment and he used it to quell his own sense of victory.

Belletrix stood straight and came toward him. She was breathing very heavily and breathily, and her moist lips glistened in the firelight. Blood spattered her breasts like freckles, Harry noticed when she was close enough. She appeared wired on something, her eyes wild and searching. When she reached up and pulled her bodice open Harry backed off, though he did it as slowly as he could stand to. He just got out as Voldemort's hand was reaching up . . .

Clear of the vision, Harry rolled over and groaned in horrific dismay. He was glad dinner had been much earlier in the day.

Harry lay awake for a very long time. He checked his clock and at an hour from the vision he very carefully peeked at Snape. The Potion Master lay in his own bed, making Harry relax a little, but his back was torturously on fire. Why doesn't he go to Pomfrey or someone, Harry wondered. Can't he trust anyone? Dumbledore? Or was he too proud to ask the headmaster for help?

Harry lay fitfully now, trying to decide what to do. When he couldn't stand it any longer he carefully got up and dug his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map out of his trunk. He hadn't used them yet this year but he fell into the routine with ease. The corridors were clear as he headed out and down to the dungeons. Snape's office door presented a little problem. It took Harry eight tries to open the lock charm on it; he was glad they had covered those for two full sessions in the DA. He respelled the door after closing it silently.

He left his cloak and Map on the visitor's chair and crept past the desk. The door to the suite was ajar. The heat from the fire in the hearth had transformed the dank atmosphere into sultry. Beside the bed, Harry whispered, "Professor?"

Snape snapped around and apparently immediately regretted it. A few heavily gasping moments past before he said, "Potter, what the devil are you doing here?"

"You woke me up," Harry explained. "Why don't you get help?"

Snape just shook his head.

"This rule is seeming really dumb. Last time I saw McGonagall she looked about like Belletrix did. Except minus that leather thing."

"Potter! Didn't the headmaster tell you-"

"I woke up with it!" Harry interrupted him. "I blocked it out as quickly as I could." Which was true up to a point. "Don't you have anything: a potion or something?" Harry asked.

Snape rested, hunched over, with his forehead on the bed for a long time before he said. "There is a salve in the cabinet to the right behind the desk." Harry was already up and across the room by the time Snape finished with, ". . . a dark blue jar."

Harry found it easily. He returned to find Snape prone on the bed, looking half-conscious. Harry, with only a moment's hesitation, sat on the edge of the bed and opened the jar. Snape's pain was battering at him like a headache that is thinking of coming on really strong any moment.

He dipped his finger into the salve and started at the top bloody streak, re-dipping frequently to avoid rubbing too hard. By the time he reached Snape's shoulder blades, the figure before him was relaxing into the relief and the battering of pain was receding. Harry took his time finishing, making sure to completely cover each of what seemed like countless ragged streaks. Harry did a few spots of touch up, leaning over and using the firelight to find the spots of thin salve.

He closed the jar and set it aside. Snape lay unmoving except for the rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Harry took the hint and left. Covered in his cloak he waited by the door to the hallway for the coast to clear.

"You are still here," Snape's voice said from the other doorway minutes later. He was in a robe now and looking almost normal from what Harry could see by the firelight leaking in from the next room.

Harry adjusted the invisibility cloak on his shoulders. "Malfoy and Parkinson are in the corridor."

Snape's head came up sharply. "You can tell that now?"

Harry sighed. "As much as I'd like to take credit for seeing into the corridor. I used this." He held up the Map.

Snape waved the lamps up, making Harry blink at the light. "I will make some tea while you wait, then. You absolutely cannot be caught down here; it would force the headmaster's hand."

Harry slipped his cloak off and draped it back over the chair and sat down in his pyjamas. He watched with fatigued eyes as his Professor spelled tea and hot water and set it aside to steep. Snape turned to face him and leaned on the back of his desk chair. "Satisfy my curiosity, Potter. Did you use any magic when you applied the salve just now?"

Harry shook his head. "Why do you ask, sir?"

Snape shook his head and took two cups out of a cabinet. He waited two minutes and then poured out the tea. "It should not have worked so well. Belletrix's whip is far from ordinary but that salve is." He looked at Harry closely as though to see if he had been lying.

Harry shrugged and sipped his tea. It was black tea which probably wasn't the best if he planned to try to sleep again. He took another sip anyway.

Snape sat down but didn't lean back in his chair. He studied Harry over his tea cup. "Dumbledore puts a great deal of faith in that particular kind of magic of yours, Potter." Harry just looked confused. "What were you thinking about in there?"

"Not much. Your pain was hammering at me," Harry said. Snape's chin went up. Harry continued, "I just wanted your pain to go away." He felt a little embarrassed having to explain. He laid the Map out in front of himself and bit his lip. "Want to see how it works?" he asked. He needed to use it anyway.

At Snape's elevated brow, Harry stood up and brought the Map over. This was a concession, Harry knew. A trade. He tapped the Map. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Snape just shook his head and then froze as the map drew itself in. Dots for Malfoy and Parkinson hovered in the dungeon corridor around the corner between here and the stairs. "From whom did you get this, Potter? Not that I don't recognize the authors."

"I can't tell you that, sir. I promised not to."

"I can guess though based on knowing who the most troublesome students before you were."

"You might be able to guess, Professor. But I didn't say."

Snape leaned closer. "A disgustingly sophisticated piece of magic. Mrs. Norris is even on here."

"Oh, she is the worst, sir," Harry insisted. "She can see through the cloak."

"Indeed? I would not have known that. And how do you suppress the imagery?"

Harry reached over and tapped it. "Mischief managed," Harry said with a little chagrin. Snape rolled his eyes. Harry returned to the visitor's chair.

"Do you think you can get rid of them?" Snape asked.

"The headmaster said not to use it unless my survival was at stake."

"Probably wise. I will get rid of them in that case." Snape gulped his tea. "I just have to think of a suitable errand."

Harry leaned his head back onto the hard wood of the chair back. Despite the tea he was still incredibly sleepy.

"I must say, Potter. I cannot believe I have not lost your trust," Snape observed.

Harry raised his head and looked at him. "We all have to survive this, sir," he said. "Last week the Prophet put mysterious deaths at thirty-three."

"It is higher than that," Snape commented darkly.

"I don't have any choice but to trust you, sir," Harry said tiredly and leaned his head back again.

I know you think he is identical to his father, but he isn't: he has a much kinder soul which he gets from his mother. DO NOT damage it, whatever you do. Dumbledore's voice replayed itself to Snape as he watched Harry Potter fight exhaustion in his visitor's chair.

Snape stood up and picked up a random flask from the nearby shelf. At the door he paused to unspell it and said, "Count of sixty, Potter, and the hallway will be clear." He reached for the door handle and paused again. "Better yet, check your Map--I may decide to punish them on the spot."

Harry stood up and put the cloak over his head in preparation.

Snape stepped into the corridor, pretending to be intent on some destination. He stopped as he passed the side alcove and spun suddenly. As expected, Malfoy and Parkinson crouched there. He let the flask swing loosely at his side as though to say that his other errand had lost importance.

"Sir, we were just . . ." Malfoy started.

"Just what, Mr. Malfoy? Reporting to the headmaster again?" Snape asked with clearly artificial calm.

"You deserved that," Malfoy sneered, "for consorting with a Gryffindor. That is disgusting and disloyal."

"Strong words, Mr. Malfoy. Especially for someone facing a months detention for being where you are at this moment."

"I'll take detention if I can serve it the way Potter does," Malfoy said sweetly.

Parkinson gaped at him. "You are gross, Malfoy. I didn't realize you were just jealous."

"You'll both serve it with Filch," Snape snapped at them. "Now get back to your rooms or you'll end up crawling your way there and it will take several days by the time I am through with you."

They jumped and ran back down the corridor.

Snape strode up the stairs and stood in the corridor that led to the entrance hall. A quiet swish went past him. "Good night, Professor."

"Good night, Potter."

#############

The next morning, Harry woke with a headache. Ron pulled the drapes of his bed aside, letting in the yellow morning sunlight, presumably to help him wake up.

"Hey, what happened to you?" Ron asked.

Harry looked at himself, at the blood on the ends of his sleeves. "I had a nosebleed last night," Harry lied quickly. Ron wasn't that interested, since breakfast was on the short horizon, so his friend left it with that explanation.

Harry got up slowly as the other boys were leaving. Dean Thomas hung back until they were alone.

"Where did you go last night?" Dean asked him.

"What's it to you?" Harry asked, though not unkindly.

"Hey, you are the one that told us in DA to make a stink if we saw anything we didn't like," Dean pointed out angrily.

Harry had pulled off his pyjama top and he now stared at it. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry. You're right. How did I miss that much blood?" He pulled out his wand.

"It won't come out if it has been there overnight," Dean pointed out. "So where were you?"

Harry took a deep breath. "You know some of the teachers here are pretty deeply involved in the Order?" At Dean's nod, Harry went on. "Well, one of the Death Eaters took a whip to one of the teachers and since only I have the misfortune of tuning into the Voldemort channel. Only I knew it. And the teacher had to hide it, so they couldn't go to Pomfrey for help."

"You are talking about Snape?"

"I didn't say that," Harry said too quickly.

"You didn't have to," Dean said. "After what he did to you? You still went down there?" Dean asked, disgusted.

Harry pulled on a clean shirt. "We all have our duties and our roles to play in this if we are to win. Personal feelings mean nothing. Wizards and Muggles are being exploited and killed. Right now. Personal feelings mean nothing," Harry repeated.

"I don't get you, Harry," Dean said, sounding like he were glad for that.

"This battle is all I have. There isn't anything else."

Dean hesitated as Harry slipped off his pyjama bottoms and put on slacks. "Funny, that is what Longbottom said the other day," he commented.

Harry shook out his robe prior to putting it on. "Yeah, well, Neville and I have more in common than you might imagine," Harry said.
I was trying to avoid sullying the ends of the chapters, but it seems worth chiming in here since the feedback has been so good.
To Annaleese192 and others: Yes. Snape has too strong of an, uh, attraction for Harry. Which Harry cottons on to when Snape looks him over. Sorry to be so vague, I like trying to get people to cotton on themselves rather than spell it out but sometimes I'm not clear enough.
To Xikum: well you do get around ffnet. Just to warn you, this story isn't going to stand up to that level of analysis.